


Mamá

by skinsuit



Series: Reality:  V-135 [1]
Category: Gravity Falls, Rick & Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Dark, Multi, Prostitution mention, TW: Domestic Abuse, TW: Violence, Tearjerker, back to dark & gritty as normal, reality: V-135, stanchez
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-02
Updated: 2017-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-22 05:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11373522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinsuit/pseuds/skinsuit
Summary: Alternating between New York 1975 and New York of the 1950s, snips and snatches of Rick's childhood are revealed, it isn't pretty.





	Mamá

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nanianela](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanianela/gifts).



> "She asked me, "Son, when I grow old  
> Will you buy me a house of gold?  
> And when your father turns to stone  
> Will you take care of me?"  
> She asked me, "Son, when I grow old  
> Will you buy me a house of gold?  
> And when your father turns to stone  
> Will you take care of me?"  
> I will make you queen of everything you see  
> I'll put you on the map  
> I'll cure you of disease" - Twenty One Pilots, House of Gold
> 
> This inspired me! :D

New York city 1975

It’s been a long night, Rick is up at the desk scribbling away for some nerd college. Stan is drifting off to sleep in an arm chair as the tv softly murmurs. Soon he’s sound asleep, only to be awakened by a scream. Stan startles.

“What the fuck Sanchez?”

“I fell asleep, and had a nightmare, Pines. Don’t be so f-f-fucking high and mighty.” Rick says He takes a pull from a bottle of cheap vodka. “It’s been a long night.”

“Yeah,” Stan mutters. “lets get to bed.”

They share a bed in this rattrap apartment, though neither of them considers the other a lover, despite the sex. Stan hates to admit it but he prefers when Rick goes to sleep drunk because of Rick’s night terrors. Stan takes a shower to wash off the filth of the day, when he goes into bedroom, Rick is drinking his vodka and looking at a faded polaroid in the faint light of the night stand’s lamp. When he hears Stan come into the room he quickly hides the picture, in physics textbook on the nightstand. Stan remembers this, he files away for later, he’ll see who’s in the picture. The next day when Rick’s in class Stan digs out the picture it’s a thin woman with a sweet sad face and raven black hair piled high on her head. Stan puzzled who it might be, but Rick would find out and raise hell. So Stan hides it again. 

~~~~~~~~~  
Rick remembers her voice soft and sweet, he remembers her singing to him in Spanish, and the way she held him to the warm of her chest, her soft skin, tan like his. He remembers her slow smile. How she wore her black hair up in a beehive, and the way she smelled like gardenias. But he can’t remember her mother’s face lately, it must be the booze, he tells himself it doesn’t matter.  
He remembers that she was a good person, and she loved him maybe the only one who ever did, and for that he worshiped her. The only person who never disappointed him. All he ever wanted was to make her happy, make her proud, and some day he would give her everything, he’d wipe the sorrow from her eyes and pain from her smile.  
~~~~~~~~  
He’s four and fidgeting in the pew of the Cathedral while Mamá makes confession to the priest. He’s mutilating the hymnal, thumping the kneeler and pretending he can’t hear Mamá’s confession, he can.

“Father forgive me for I have sinned. I try to be a good wife and mother, but my husband’s temper is getting worse. I’m scared. He hit me in front of our son. I want to leave.”

“Divorce is a sin, my child. You’re husband isn’t doing this unprovoked. Try think what you are doing to upset him. Pray to God for patience and strength my child….”

Rick wasn’t trying to eavesdrop and being four he grew distracted by the candles in front of a statue of the Virgin Mary. He wondered what else they could burn as he slips off the pew and runs over to them… 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Escorting has been good to both of them, better so far then Stanco and much better then the graduate program Rick is doing. That weekend they went down to Atlantic city and won big. Rick told Stan that the it bosses’ wouldn’t catch on, Rick was wrong, they cackle as they speed off the Stanleymobile, their ill gotten gains in a suitcase the back seat.  
There is a pause.  
“So Rick where you wanna stash this, we can’t go back to the city.”

“Yeah. Let’s take the I-76 to Ithaca.”

“Where?”

“Upstate New York. I lived there as a kid.”

“With you’re Mom and Dad?”

“Well, Dad, Mamá left when I was seven.”

“…but I met your Dad and Mom. He’s a professor, right? An egghead, he seems like a wimp, such a milquetoast loser…and she’s sour bitch who looks like she smelled a fart.”

“….Yeah the fucker was good at seeming especially now he’s sober. That wasn’t my Mamá but the woman he married after, she’s a uptight bitch.”

~~~~~~~~~~~  
Ithaca 1959.  
It’s midnight when Mamá wakes him up, covering his mouth so he makes no sound. 

“Ssssh Mijo, come with me.”

Her arm is in a sling and there are fading bruises on her neck. He grins, he nods. He knows, finally they are leaving! That asshole won’t be able to touch them! Maybe even going where Mamá grew up Oaxaca… His pajamas are blue with have little green rocket ships on them. The house is dark. Mamá has a suitcase, they go down the stairs carefully trying not to make a sound. They are almost at the front door when the light clicks on behind them. Dad is standing there holding his pistol. 

“Well, well, well Cass sneaking off and trying to take my son with you?”

“Martín, please put the gun down, be reasonable.”

“Oh no, we’re long past that point bitch! You’ve never respected me, even after all I did for you!”

“Martín, it’s over, I can’t live like this anymore.”

Dad shook his head. “I love you.”

he was crying

“I love you too. This is so hard for me.”

she was crying too.

“Then why are you doing it!?” Dad shouted it. “I won’t have you take my son from me!”  
He aimed the gun at Rick. That’s when Mamá leapt at Dad. They fought she was trying to get the gun from him, and for moment Rick thought it would okay. Mama would kill the bastard and they would go away and start a new life somewhere else! Good guys always won, right? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
They had driven for nearly five hours, it was getting to be dusk as Rick pulled down a quiet residential street in some suburbs. There was a house that was clearly abandoned at the end of the street, yard overgrown, windows dark and cracked. 

“There it is, that’s where we’ll stash the money.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Shut up Pines, I know what I’m doing.”

They drove up to the house and carried the unwieldy suitcase of cash to the front door, which Rick broke down with a kick. In the dimness of the house, Rick knelt down and began prying up floorboards. 

“Here?”  
Rick paused. “No.”

Rick went to the cellar door which was swinging open.  
“Son of a bitch it’s dark!”  
“Quit whining.” Rick took a small flashlight from his jacket pocket and flicked it on. In the eerie light, they made their way down the rickety cellar stairs every steep creaking and whining. At the bottom of the stars Rick shone his light on the dirt floor, he handed Stan a shovel.

“Dig.”

So Stan began to dig.

“Ya know this the first place they’ll look.”

“Shut up.”

A few shovelfuls of dirt and Stan hit something. Rick shone the flashlight on it: A skull.  
“WHAT THE HELL, SANCHEZ?!”

“She’s not gonna hurt you, she’s dead.”

“She?”

“Mamá,”

“That’s you’re Mom?! What the fuck happened to her?”:

Rick took a swig from his flask, he knelt down and ran his hand over her dead, cold skull and spoke one word:

“Dad.”

 

~~~~~~~~  
There was a loud crack as the gun shot Mamá in the head. She slumped to the floor, like puppet who’s strings had been cut. Blood and brains seeped through the hole, in her hair.  
Rick ran to her but she was dead when he got there, the light gone from her brown eyes he began to cry.  
Dad grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet.

“Stop whining like a pussy and help me get this cleaned up.”

Dad dragged her body down to the unfinished basement and handed Rick a shovel. 

“Start digging and stop looking at me like that or i’ll smack the shit out of you. This was for your own good, you don’t want to grow up to be some uneducated wet back.”

“No! I’m gonna tell the cops, you son of a bitch!”  
Dad casually backhanded him sending Rick sprawling onto the ground. He looked up at the dark silhouette of his father. Suddenly he was filled with fear: raw, cold, and utterly defeating.

“You do that and I’ll put you in the ground next to your fucking mom, Rick.” In that moment Rick knew his Dad was telling the truth, his old man would have no compunction killing him as well. 

“Yes."

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Now shut up and start digging.”

 

~~~~~~

Rick gently brushed away the dirt revealing the vertebrae and collar bone. He pulled handful of money from the suit case and pressed onto the tattered rags on the skeleton. 

“I told you Mamá I’d be something, I told you I’d help you, to little to fucking late right?”

Stan saw the tears in Rick’s eyes and turned off the flashlight.

“We gonna dig her up and get the cops here?”

“No, keep digging, we’ll bury some of the money here.”

“….creepy…”

“Yeah do it or fuck off.’

“Tell me what happened?”

“You can see what happened… nobody crosses a Sanchez.”

“Right… you still crying.”

“No.”

It was a lie but Stan didn't press it further.

So they buried half the money, they rest disappeared quickly: drugs, booze, and stupid shit. And Stan for his part, decided he didn’t really need that other money.


End file.
